


Pompey's Widow

by Autumn_Llleaves



Category: Giulio Cesare in Egitto - Händel/Haym
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Missing Scene, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: Achillas shares a moment with Cornelia before going to fight on Cleopatra’s side.





	Pompey's Widow

The guards of the harem still knew nothing of what had transpired. They were only too happy to give Achillas access to the small room where Cornelia had been escorted – they probably believed Ptolemy decided to share her with his right-hand man.

Cornelia hardly noticed him walking inside. Leaning against the wall, she was crying her heart out, her face reddened and puffy against the black sleeve of her dress.

Achillas stood in the doorway uncertainly. He opened his mouth to call her several times, but he realized at the last moment that addressing her as his love or his beauty wouldn’t be right, especially now. Could he talk to her formally, though? He couldn’t do that either. After the memory of how soft her hands felt in his, how sweet her hair smelled, how…

_Stop it._

He finally settled on a quiet:

“Cornelia.”

She jerked away, clearly startled, then relaxed as she saw it was him. There was no steely glare in her eyes when she looked at him, either… though with the broken look she had now, Achillas would have vastly preferred the glare.

“Did Ptolemy hurt you?” he asked carefully.

“Now, you mean, in the harem? No, he hadn’t got the time,” she shook her head feebly. Her voice was hoarse and barely audible from crying. “He was just starting it when you came there with the news.”

Achillas risked a step towards her.

“Believe me, I had no idea Ptolemy set his sights on you. He promised… he promised to let me marry you.”

“Why, of course, if Ptolemy promised it, he will keep his word! Just ask my husband!”

“I swear, Cornelia, I didn’t know,” Achillas repeated. His hands grew sweaty at the mention of Pompey as he remembered his own involvement with the man’s murder.

“What does it matter now, anyway?” she murmured, talking more to herself than to him. “Whether it’s you or him – there isn’t any difference for me now.”

“No… Cornelia, don’t talk like this, please!” he rushed to her side. “You frighten me.”

He took her hands in his. She didn’t slap him, and he wished she had.

“Your son is free – he will run away and get help.”

A small spark lit up in her eyes at the mention of Sextus.

“I hope he will be able to reach Rome,” she smiled faintly. “He might even rise to consulate in time – he is a wonderful boy.”

“First of all, he will join the Roman army and save you from this place.”

Cornelia blinked, confused:

“What do you mean? What Roman army? There’s only Cleopatra and whatever’s left of the legions, and not many of them would follow the Egyptian queen.”

“No, it’s not like that!” he took her face in his hands. “Caesar is alive, Cornelia – he will gather the troops again and lead them to the palace!”

“He is alive?” Cornelia gasped. “Oh!.. But you said…”

“I lied.”

Her dark green eyes grew round, and her lips trembled. Achillas could see she was on the verge of hysterics.

“I lied,” he repeated, softly stroking her temples to calm her down. “The sea is quiet. I saw Caesar swimming away safely, and Curius is also perfectly all right.”

“Curius lives?” she cried with joy, and Achillas gritted his teeth as he felt a stab of jealousy. He had heard, from Pompey himself no less, that Caesar’s second-in-command had been a contender for Cornelia’s hand, and he had seen the looks Curius gave her at Caesar’s camp. _Why should she prefer him? What good has he done to deserve her?.. On the other hand, I haven’t done her much good myself…_

He gave a start when Cornelia lay her hand over his.

“You are a better man than I thought you were, I confess. It’s a pity you serve Ptolemy.”

“Not anymore!” Achillas said firmly. “Do you think I would want anything to do with him now? I’m going to fight on the side of Cleopatra’s army!”

“Oh!” she gasped. “The army! Oh, Achillas, if… if you are right and Sextus joins the legions… please, would you look out for him? He is just a boy, I’m so frightened he’ll try to do something foolish…”

 _Again_ , Achillas added to himself.

“Of course. Anything you ask, Cornelia,” he blurted out before he could think, and she blushed, lowering her eyes. He waited for the slap, but it never came.

She sighed and squeezed his hand instead:

"I'm sorry, I really am, but I don't feel the way you do. You deserve a better answer, Achillas, underneath everything, your heart is honorable, I realize it now."

_As if._

"I loved my husband. I knew he had had other wives before me, I knew he had children, but it didn't matter.  _He_ was all that mattered. Now, after his death..."

_That I caused._

"...I don't think I'll be able to love any other man that much. Any other man, be it you... or Curius."

It seemed she had sensed his jealousy. Probably she wanted to make sure he wouldn't stab Curius on the battlefield.

Drums thundered outside.

"Oh, these are the troops loyal to me. I have to go," Achillas said. He had never felt less willing to go into battle. Leaving her here... fighting against yesterday's friends... "Cornelia..."

_Come on, tell her. Set your conscience at peace, at least partly. She doesn't love you anyway, and she will just go back to hating you the way she did. You have nothing to lose. After the battle, she will probably kill you herself, and at least your last look will be of her. Say it. "It was me who plotted Pompey's murder"._

"Cornelia," he repeated, trying to muster the courage. It hadn't failed him like this before.

She saw he was struggling to say something, but she understood his reasons wrong. All of a sudden, putting her arms around his neck, she pulled him into a kiss.

For several moments, Achillas forgot everything. He forgot that he was due to go to battle, and that Cornelia had just told him she didn't love him, and that he planned to confess to Pompey's murder. There was nothing in the world for him but the gentle pressure of her soft lips on his mouth, the warmth of her body against his and the feeling of her curly hair between his fingers. 

Another roll of drums broke the spell. 

"I've got to leave now," he said urgently, cradling her in his arms. "We'll get you out of here, beloved, I promise. And, er..."

"Yes?" she whispered, shivering a little.

_I killed your husband. Well, not personally, but I stood by and watched as my troops stabbed him and cut off his head. It was my idea entirely, and I suggested it to Ptolemy. I know you can't forgive me, but please believe that I would have given everything to change what's happened._

"I won't say a word of what's just happened."

She smiled at him sadly as he left, and Achillas despised himself more than ever.

* * *

Cornelia Metella never married again. She spent the rest of her life in quiet seclusion, mourning her beloved husband Pompey the Great, and had very few close friends.

She kept Pompey's signet ring in an enameled box in her room and would kiss it every morning after getting out of bed and every evening before going to sleep.

There was another ring she kept close, too. Made of gilded silver with a lapis lazuli scarab, it was, as she told people when asked, given to her by her dear stepson Sextus, a trophy from his campaign in Egypt when he helped Caesar and Cleopatra against Ptolemy. Why she preferred it to all the other Egyptian tokens they had brought to Rome, nobody had known. Sometimes, she would gaze at it, silently, wistfully and sadly.

Vibius Curius, a prominent cavalry general in Caesar's service, probably knew something about it, but he never spoke a word.

 

 


End file.
